


simmer

by hezenvengeance



Series: the light lives in all places [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Coerthas (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn, Gen, Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22929796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hezenvengeance/pseuds/hezenvengeance
Summary: Coerthas sucks. Wolves suck.
Series: the light lives in all places [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1648006
Kudos: 4





	simmer

Erebos  _ hates _ Coerthas. 

They’ve barely been in the area a week, Erebos following lead after damnable pointless lead through the cold and the wind and the stares of the populace that range from suspicious to downright disgusted. A week, and he’s already heart and homesick again, missing the sun and salt of Limsa - dammit, any semblance of real sunlight would do. It’s all grey here, leeches the will out of him almost as bad as the completely unwarranted ire he receives from those he encounters. He works through whatever they ask of him with frankly terrifying speed (much to Alphinaud’s chagrin and Cid’s bemusement), only to have it thrown back in his face time and time again.

_ Outsider. Heretic. _

The words make his blood boil, as does the damn inquisitor who’s so fond of saying them. 

And yet, he continues to help; Continues to fetch their skins and meat, hunt their intrusive wildlife, save their knights and merchants without audible complaint. Perhaps he’s cursed, never able to say no to a man in need. It would certainly solve why he agrees to even the most ornery of requests. 

They’re hunting ice sprites for the moment - ‘they’ being Ostium, Ulric and himself. Erebos hesitates to call the fire apparition he can now call upon anything humanising; it’s more energy than entity, all wild heat and barely controlled spirit. It doesn’t emote and investigate of it’s own accord like Carbuncle, doesn’t feel  _ alive _ like Carbuncle. Despite himself, he misses the creature, it’s feigned indifference and derisive stares. Erebos is well aware Thubyrgeim and Y'mhitra both would be disappointed in his hesitation to utilise his new summon and his attachment to the old, but Erebos is also aware he’s prone to unnecessary empathy, that he bonds far easier with those that at least appear to bond back. The creature of fire shows no interest in him, and thus he finds it difficult to foster an interest in return. 

Not that it matters. The EGI is useful, nothing more and nothing less, and he can’t complain when it hovers close enough to warm the frozen side of his face. 

It’s so damn cold. Cold weather, cold attitudes, cold hearts perhaps. He finds himself missing Haurchefant’s steadfast presence, a hale and hearty balm to the chill reception he found elsewhere. The elezen’s encouragement had kept Erebos going in the small hours, helped him find the vestiges of his willpower when he thought he’d given all there was to give, bodily threw a blanket at him and bade him rest when he veered too close to burning out again. Perhaps it was obvious, when he pushed himself too far, if even strangers could see it. 

There’s a sharp screech from behind him - Ostium, he’d know that call anywhere and it means  _ danger _ \- and Erebos pivots out of his thoughts as he does on his heel to sling a spell at the bedraggled wolf accosting his chocobo. Ostium bats the creature away with a well-placed kick as Erebos closes the distance, throwing himself between bird and beast. 

Ulric growls from his seat in the saddlebags as the wolf rights itself; Erebos had rescued him from seven snow drifts before giving up and wrestling the pup into one Ostium’s pouches, much to Ulric’s displeasure. He’s glad for it now, though, as it keeps him far away from the wolf’s snapping jaws, flecks of foam between the teeth that surge forward as it charges them again. The EGI slips past him, spitting fire, snow melting under Erebos’s feet as he tries to plant himself. It’s useless; the wolf closes in, and Erebos feels his footing slip as he tries to cast and dodge, throwing him off balance. It’s all the opportunity the wolf needs. A flash of dirty white fur barrels into his exposed side - pain explodes in his ribs and gut, white-hot agony, and Erebos feels more than hears the sickening crunch of his bones breaking between sharp teeth. The sudden weight taking Erebos off his feet completely, and the leverage only lets the wolf sink deeper into the wound. His head hits the stone under the snow with the force and the world distorts, ears ringing. He can’t even make a noise, can’t issue a command. Ostium screeches but it sounds far off, Ulric’s panicked yips distant. 

There’s a rush of heat, smell of burning hair. The pressure around his side recedes as the EGI floats into his vision, and Erebos hears an agonised howl, receding into the storm. He doesn’t hesitate, shoves a hand against the slick mess developing in the snow and casts a weak physick; enough to repair the worst of the trauma, but the wound still bleeds thick and hot, and he leaves a bloody handprint on Ostium’s feathers as he hauls himself into the saddle, stripping off his sash and pressing it against the wound. Ulric licks at his hand worriedly as the chocobo breaks into a sprint under them, and Erebos grits his teeth against every bump and dip in the road. 

He hopes Haurchefant doesn’t mind another intrusion on his hospitality. 


End file.
